


The Taste of Treacle Tart

by NestingHedwig_aka_LinW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Snarry-A-Thon18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-26 06:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14396532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestingHedwig_aka_LinW/pseuds/NestingHedwig_aka_LinW
Summary: Harry rubbed his eyes, knowing the day would be a long and frustrating one. This was not the way he wanted to spend his birthday.





	The Taste of Treacle Tart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Snarry-a-Thon 2018. All characters depicted herein in adult situations may safely be assumed to be over eighteen. The story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended; no monetary gain will be made from this story.

**July 31st**

"Happy birthday, Harry," Arthur Weasley said warmly as he stood at the opening of Harry's cubicle early in the morning, his overflowing satchel gripped tightly in one hand and a covered basket in the other. He set the basket in the center of Harry's cluttered desk, careful to avoid knocking over the fresh mug of steaming hot tea or one of the many stacks of paper and rolls of parchment. "Molly's sent along a sweet to celebrate your day. She made your favorite."

Harry released the latch holding the basket's lid closed. He gazed down at the delicate egg-washed lattice crust of a treacle tart. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. No one made a treacle tart like Molly Weasley. 

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I was too rushed for breakfast this morning, so this is perfect. Do you want a slice to take with?"

"Oh, no thank you, Harry. Molly sent me off with a full English breakfast, so there'd be no room." Arthur patted his slight paunch before hurrying off to his Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office on the floor above.

Harry took the tart into the Child Protective Services - Department of Accidental Magic's miniscule kitchenette and set it beside the ever-full teapot and a haphazard collection of mugs. He cut himself a slice, and left the remainder for his co-workers to sample. The tart lemon juice and lemon zest used in both the crust and the filling helped to cut the cloying sweetness of the golden syrup, and the touch of black treacle tickled his taste buds.

Making a mental note to send a thank you card to Molly, Harry returned to his workspace. He took another forkful of tart and washed it down with his tea. 

He looked at his full inbox and let out a sigh. There was a trio of Chocolate Frogs, Spellotaped to a singing birthday greeting from his co-workers perched precariously to the very top of the pile. The minute he moved it, the entire heap would collapse.

Damn them, he thought, mildly amused at such a feeble attempt at a prank. 

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Mandy Brocklehurst sing-songed from the next cubicle. "We got you your favorite - Chocolate Frogs."

He thanked his associates and then silenced the repetitive tune with a wandless _Finite_.

"If you get an Agrippa, can I have the card?" Terry Boot asked, stopping at the door to Harry's cubicle, a thick slice of treacle tart in his hands. "It's the only one I am missing."

~*~*~  
Harry glanced at his neatly pressed over robes, hung from his cubicle wall to prevent wrinkling, and went back to reviewing his notes. He rubbed his eyes, knowing the day would be a long and frustrating one. 

This was not the way he wanted to spend his birthday.

In less than a hour, he would deliver a report correlating increased occurrences of accidental magic in small children, specifically Muggle-born and Muggle-raised, living in abusive and/or neglectful surroundings. His report would end with a proposal that CPS-DAM(1) investigate such occurrences more closely, with an eye to either educating the non-magical guardians on the needs of a magical child or, if absolutely necessary, to remove the child from an abusive environment altogether. The current Ministry of Magic's standing orders to Oblivate ALL surrounding Muggles should also be taken under consideration, as many of Muggles, not even aware of the accidental magic occurrence to begin with, were having their memories unnecessarily modified. 

Since he'd been a magical child raised in a magic-phobic environment himself, the report's findings supported a cause close to Harry's heart. 

And since his report was to be presented to a multi-faceted symposium of Ministry, Educational, and "select" private sector attendants together, he fully expected his recommendations to be shot down by the "old guard." Accidental magic in a magical household was met with celebration - positive proof that a child was not a Squib. Purebloods and magically raised half-bloods had no real understanding that accidental magic in a non-magical household was often a terrifying event, and that a parent's fear could easily lead to violence directed against the child, which would, in turn, lead to more episodes of accidental magic.

After his morning presentation, followed by a light lunch, representatives from both the Ministry of Magic's Educational Department and the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the Magical Immersion classes currently being offered to ten-year-old Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children and their families. With the controversial program now in its third year, Harry hoped that this meeting would not devolve into still another battle. Hard-line purebloods continued to denounce the need to budget for special classes aiding non-magically raised children in a successful navigation of, to them, an alien culture.

Harry was almost tempted to round up all their pureblood ten-year-olds, drop them in the center of a large Muggle city without any form of assistance, and see how well the little sods managed on their own.

Oh well, he thought as he finished off the slice of treacle tart, one could always daydream.

~*~*~  
Severus wheeled his trolley through the aisles of the local Sainsbury's Supermarket, mentally reviewing his menu for Harry's birthday dinner. Although he could just as easily owl order or shop in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, he preferred the total anonymity shopping in the Muggle world provided him. 

No one in Sainsbury's glared at him, whispered loudly behind his back, cast random curses, or hurried away to avoid crossing his path. In fact, given his slightly above average height, he was often a highly sought after individual when a short or aged shopper desired an item from the upper supermarket shelves. 

Because their pantry was always kept fully stocked, Severus did not often need to purchase such basics as flour and sugar, but he did need to replenish perishables every fortnight or so. His trolley already contained eggs, heavy cream, milk, butter, and assorted cheeses. He paused in the baking aisle, trying to remember if his planned recipe required golden syrup or black treacle. Erring on the side of caution, he placed both bottles in the basket.

He made his way to the fresh produce displays at the back of the market. He didn't bother with the fresh herbs or the leafy greens because he and Harry already grew them in their kitchen garden, but it was still too early in the season to harvest many of the other vegetables they also planted, so he would need to pick up a few of them. Fruit, too, he thought, to balance out their diets. At the very least, he needed to pick up some lemons and asparagus to make Harry's favorite dishes.

~*~*~  
Well, his report had been received just as favorably as he thought it would.

Harry removed a small vial of headache draught from the inside pocket of his dress robes. He opened the seal and took a small sip of the bitter concoction. He closed his eyes and waited for the potion to work.

"You wouldn't happen to have another one of those, would you?"

Harry opened his eyes to see Mafalda Hopkirk from the Improper Use of Magic Office standing before him. Wordlessly, he plucked a second vial of headache draught from his pocket. One of the perks of sharing a life with a Potions master was an unending supply of medicinal brews.

"Don't let those bastards get you down," Mafalda said conversationally as she opened the vial. "You put together a damn fine presentation. When you have a chance, could you send me a copy of your findings? The Improper Use of Magic Office might be able to utilize a few of your recommendations. Warning letters often cause more harm than good, and I have always thought that Oblivating Muggles should be the last line of defense, not the first one."

He agreed with the middle-aged witch, in principle. If the Child Protective Services and the Improper Use of Magic Office could manage a few preventative home visits, perhaps the cycle of abuse could be broken for some Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children.

Harry thought back to how poorly the entire Dementor incident prior to his fifth year had been handled by the Ministry (ironically, including Ms. Hopkirk herself), and what an eye-opening revelation it had proved to be.

~*~*~  
Severus had just finished measuring out the flour when the first wave of owls began to arrive. That morning's edition of _The Daily Prophet_ had featured a flashing banner and a front page article wishing _The Chosen One_ a happy birthday. As much as he wished he could place a temporary Mail Owl Misdirection charm on their property, that would also prevent the delivery of legitimate post, and well wishes by family, friends, and close acquaintances. Unfortunately, the cottage was going to be inundated with birthday greetings by total strangers. 

Oh joy.

~*~*~  
After several other Ministry employees complimented him on his report and asked intelligent questions about the research behind it, Harry began to feel a little better. Getting any kind of reform past the entrenched Ministry of Magic cogs was always going to be an uphill battle, but he would gladly accept support from the witches and wizards on the front line. 

And as any good general knew, you didn't always need a full frontal assault to win a battle.

His headache gone, Harry joined the queue for the luncheon buffet. As much as he did not really wish to dine with most members of the symposium, there was not enough time between presentations to make other luncheon plans. He cursed himself; had he thought ahead, he could have packed a lunch and snuck away for a few minutes of peace and quiet.

"Harry."

Harry turned as a familiar voice called his name. Oliver Wood joined him in the queue. Due to a career-ending Quidditch injury, the former Gryffindor was now assisting Madam Hooch with flying instruction and coaching. Harry assumed Oliver was at the Ministry as moral support for the Hogwarts delegation.

He and Oliver reminisced about their Hogwarts years as they ate. It was nice to finally be able to talk about Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey, and his beloved Hedwig without the gut-wrenching sadness that had previously occurred. 

Harry picked at the small quiches, meat pies and finger sandwiches, happy that the luncheon featured a lighter fare. If the afternoon presentations did not run too long, he had plans to share a birthday tea with Neville at The Leaky Cauldron, and he knew Severus had something special planned for dinner.

"Damn these fiddly little bits," Oliver groused as he devoured his miniature sandwich in a single bite, plucking a fallen leaf of watercress from his plate. "A man needs real food...I'm going up for another round...can I get you anything?"

Harry shook his head, and refilled his teacup from one of the ever-full teapots hovering above each dining table. Based on the number of other men clustered around the buffet table, Oliver was not the only wizard still feeling peckish. The burly ex-Keeper returned to their table with two plates piled high with tidbits, one of them filled with an assortment of sweets.

"Saw the they had your favorite treacle tarts, so I brought you some." Oliver placed the sweet-laden plate in front of Harry.

The crust had a sandy texture and crumbled as Harry took a bite of the tartlet. There was no hint of lemon in either the crust or the filling, and the black treacle had been added with too heavy a hand. Harry swallowed the pastry, and washed it down with the tea.

Well, it was a tartlet and it had the flavor of black treacle, but it was certainly not a treacle tart. He reached for a ginger biscuit, and then pushed the plate back toward Oliver.

"You know, Harry," Oliver said as he wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin. "Until I heard you talk about accidental magic this morning, I never realized how negatively Muggles could react to it."

"I can speak from personal experience. My accidental magic outbursts terrified my aunt and my uncle. They would lock me into a cupboard for hours after each episode. They thought my freakishness would infect my cousin," Harry replied, matter-of-fact. He was done making excuses for Vernon and Petunia Dursley's cruel behavior. "And believe it or not, their reactions were mild. Some children have lost their lives over it. Fear can make people do irrational things."

"And that's why you joined Child Protective Services." Oliver shook his head. "I never understood until today why you didn't join the Auror Corps or play Quidditch professionally."

"Yeah, yeah. I still have what Hermione calls my people saving thing."

Oliver laughed.

~*~*~  
"Oh, for the love of..."

Severus had just dropped the ball of dough onto the lightly floured countertop when three postal owls swooped into the Potter-Snape kitchen. As he watched the trio jostle one another for position, he just shook his head. Owls had been arriving all day, and what was at first a mild annoyance, and then a growing irritation, had dropped off all charts into the blatantly absurd. What possessed all these witches and wizards to send birthday greetings, and in some cases - gifts - to a man they had no personal relationship with?

For some strange reason, the Wizarding public seemed to think they owned _The Chosen One_ , _The Boy-Who-Lived_ , _The Man-Who-Conquered_ , or whatever ridiculous title _The Daily Prophet_ decided to saddle Harry with that week. They thought those titles were who Harry was, but they were wrong. 

Anyone who really knew Harry knew how much he hated his celebrity status, and that he would not appreciate the attention.

"Thank Merlin I decided not to brew today," Severus thought as he Scourgified the dough and flour from his hands and cast a protective shield over his workspace to keep owl feathers and droppings from his kitchen surfaces. If the horde of owls didn't let up soon, he doubted he would be able to complete his dinner preparations.

It was times like this he missed having a house-elf on call. It was truly unfortunate that Kreacher had finally succumbed to old age earlier that year. The ancient little elf would have happily terrorized the birds for him.

Severus turned his attention to the three owls. Recognizing Hagrid's messy scrawl on a box tied to a Hogwarts owl's foot, he gently divested the owl of the package and set the box beside a small pile of gifts he had mentally designated as Known Friends and Family. He let out a sigh of relief that there were no air holes punched into the lid. 

The second owl carried that week's edition of _The Quibbler_ , so he paid the owl and tossed the newspaper into the Household Mail pile. 

The final owl was holding a pastry box tied with festive ribbon, and it bore a gift tag.  
_To: Harry Potter_  
_Many Happy Returns!_  
_From: Doris Crockford_

"Who the hell is Doris Crockford(2)?" Severus muttered before casting a series of spells to check for malicious intent. The box did not trigger any warnings, and, upon investigation, contained a home baked cherry pie. What was the matter with this witch? There was no way he and Harry were going to eat anything sent to them from a total stranger. 

"Idiots," he growled, placing the box in a large pile designated as _Sender Unknown_. 

~*~*~  
Once the afternoon session wound down, Harry headed up to the CPS-DAM office to drop off a few papers before he headed out for the evening. Since they already had plans for tea, Neville Longbottom decided to accompany him.

"So, how is the family? Are Hannah and Frank Junior well?"

"Frankie took a few steps on his own last night," Neville replied, proudly.

"Life as you know it has just changed, Nev." Harry smiled at his friend. "I remember that stage. Teddy went from cruising the furniture to running. There was no walking involved. Come to think of it, there still is no walking involved."

Neville laughed.

"Oh, thank goodness you're finally back," Mandy said the minute they entered the office. She was alone and looked slightly frazzled. "The mail elves keep making deliveries to your cubicle. I gave up trying to make any sense of it hours ago."

"Merlin be damned," Harry cursed as he tried to enter his workspace. Piles of envelopes and packages filled his chair and cascaded onto the floor, filling the small cubicle. _Witch Weekly_ had sent him a huge arrangement of lilies, complete with a Happy Birthday balloon, which blocked the entrance. The bundles of mail bore the Mail Room sigil indicating the items had been checked for curses. 

"I hope no one from the Mail Room was injured by a cursed delivery, even by something as simple as Bubotuber Pus. While it's irritating to humans, it is extremely caustic to house-elf skin."

All mail delivered to the Ministry of Magic was routed through the Mail Room before being delivered to each department, as Post Owls were not permitted to fly wildly through the building. All cursed mail would automatically be sent to the Auror Corps two levels below for processing. Harry wondered vaguely how many parcels addressed to him today fell into that category.

"This is a bit ridiculous," Neville said, awed by the sheer volume of post. "I received a few birthday greetings from people I didn't know, but this...this is madness..."

"Mandy, do you know if departmental communications have been separated out from the mail delivered here?"

"They pulled out anything that was obviously work related and gave it to me, but if something is addressed simply to _Harry Potter_ , without the departmental designation, it will be impossible to tell without opening it." 

With Mandy and Neville's assistance, Harry began to quickly separate the piles. All those addressed simply to _Harry Potter_ were placed into one pile and all of the other titles were placed into a second one. Harry shrank the second pile and placed it into Mrs. Weasley's basket. 

"Do you want me to start opening these?" Neville asked, as he held a package addressed to Harry in his hands.

"No, sorry, you can't. You're not a part of CPS-DAM. If you open something that turns out not to be an effing birthday greeting, it would be in direct violation of client privacy. Mandy, please put the letter opener down and finish whatever you were doing before this disaster erupted. I'm just going to take this mess home and sort it out there." 

Harry gathered the remaining post and added it to the basket. With a smile, he plucked the trio of Chocolate Frogs off the top of his inbox, without causing the anticipated mail avalanche, and placed them on top of the miniaturized mail. Mandy pouted.

"Are you sure we can't sue _The Daily Prophet_ for this?" Mandy asked and Harry just shook his head. 

"By the way, you've received an official reprimand for using the Ministry's Mail Room for personal mail," Neville commented, removing a notice pinned to Harry's outer cubicle wall and handing it to the other man. "It's nice to see the Ministry is still run by idiots."

Harry cursed under his breath. He did not welcome the unwanted attention brought about by the newspaper article. He really just wanted the general public to leave him alone. He had always despised the titles the Wizarding world saddled him with. Being touted as _The Boy-Who-Lived_ only brought pain. Why would anyone think that the constant reminder that you had survived a murder attempt that had left you an orphan was grounds for any sort of celebration? And being called _The Chosen One_ only served to remind Harry of all the adult wizards and witches who sat on their wands waiting for a child to save them. 

This was not the way he wanted to spend his birthday and he did not appreciate total strangers wanting to celebrate it with him.

~*~*~  
Severus carefully zested a lemon, alert to keep the bitter white pith to a bare minimum. He would squeeze the juice from the fruit once he completed zesting all the lemons he required.

The owl deliveries, thankfully, were trickling off. He might actually have enough uninterrupted time to complete dinner.

A lone barn owl barked in greeting as it deposited a violet-and-lime-green-wrapped parcel onto an empty chair. Severus recognized the uniquely colored packaging to be a delivery from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the Diagon Alley joke shoppe. 

He smirked when the barn owl shot back through the open window, not waiting for an owl treat. Even their own delivery owl didn't trust a package from Weasley & Weasley not to explode.

~*~*~  
The noisy pub sounds muted as Neville and Harry stepped into one of The Leaky Cauldron's small private dining rooms. Because the Hogwarts book lists had been sent out earlier that week, parents and their children were beginning back-to-school shopping. From now until September 1st, the day the children left on the Hogwarts Express, all of the businesses on Diagon Alley would likely be a madhouse.

Neville's wife and owner of the pub, Hannah, entered the dining room with a heavily laden tray. After setting the tray down on the tabletop, she gave Harry a birthday hug and Neville a quick kiss.

"I know this is heavier fare than normal for tea, but every wizard that has come in to 'The Leaky' for the past half hour has been complaining that the Ministry luncheon didn't feed a starving rabbit. I brought you your favorites - shepherd's pie and treacle tart." Hannah paused before opening the door. "You both have tea, but if you'd rather have butterbeer or something stronger, just let me know. I seem to remember you always liked butterbeer."

Harry ate a few bites of the mashed-potato-topped lamb pie. It was delicious, but, he didn't want to eat too much. He needed to leave room for Severus' special dinner.

The short crust pastry of Hannah's treacle tart did not contain lemons and the delicate lemon flavored filling contained only golden syrup as a sweetener. Harry idly wondered if the tart could truly be called a treacle tart if it did not actually contain black treacle. But whatever Hannah chose to call it, it was a delectable tart. He took another bite of the confection and washed it down with tea. 

Time spent in conversation with a friend was a pleasant way to spend his birthday.

~*~*~  
Severus peered into his oven to check on his baking. He carefully closed the door. The crust was browning nicely.

He looked over to the assorted piles of birthday mail cluttering the dining table and just shook his head. He still had at least ten parcels left to check for malicious intent. Thankfully, he had needed to destroy only two pieces so far.

He hoped the presence of all that unwanted mail did not put Harry into a bad mood. Severus just wanted to spend a quiet evening with his partner.

~*~*~  
Carrying the bouquet of lilies, minus the balloon and _Witch Weekly_ card, Harry walked through the graveyard in Godric's Hollow. He placed the flowers at the foot of his parents' headstone and sat on the grass covering their graves. 

It saddened him to realize he was several years older than they had been when they died. He traced the letters in their names as he told them about what was going on in his life.

The stress of his day ebbed as he spoke quietly to those who had given him life.

~*~*~  
"You have got to be fucking kidding me." 

Severus looked up from his dinner preparations to see Harry standing beside the dining table, looking at the large gift piles in dismay.

"You have no idea what kind of insane day..." Severus paused when Harry held up a single finger and a basket. The Potions master's eyebrow rose when Harry opened the basket and placed two additional piles onto the tabletop, canceling the shrinking charm as he did so.

"I can't even pretend to understand this. I have more mail today than I did when I killed Riddle nine years ago." Harry's shoulders sagged. "I've consciously tried to stay out of the spotlight. Why can't they leave me alone?"

Severus hated the way the Wizarding public's love/hate relationship with _Their Savior_ could play on the insecurities of the usually strong wizard. He blamed both Albus Dumbledore and the Dursleys for that. He folded Harry into his arms and held him tightly. Sometimes Harry just needed the reassurance that he was loved.

"Where's Teddy?" Harry asked, suddenly. Normally his ten-year-old godson would be underfoot by now.

"I sent him to Andromeda for safekeeping. She'll return with him tomorrow. Once the deluge of owls began to arrive, I couldn't risk the danger they represented. Idiots that send cursed mail don't particularly care who gets hurt in the process." 

"Thank you." Harry gave Severus a chaste kiss. "Anything for dinner that can't keep?"

"I have all the preparation finished for the mains, but since I didn't know precisely when you would be home, I haven't put anything on the hob."

"Good." Harry deepened his next kiss, and then began to back Severus toward their bedroom.

This was exactly how he wanted to spend his birthday.

~*~*~  
It was a freshly showered and calmer Harry who began to sort through the _Harry Potter_ stack of post from his Ministry cubicle while Severus prepared a dinner of broiled scrod on a bed of lemon asparagus orzo and a side salad with a simple vinaigrette dressing. He had baked a loaf of multigrain bread earlier that afternoon. A chocolate and raspberry mousse topped with freshly whipped cream and curls of Honeydukes' Special Dark chocolate waited in the icebox. They were all of Harry's favorites.

Harry was pleased to note that the majority of the _Harry Potter_ post was actually related to open CPS-DAM cases or birthday greetings from current Ministry of Magic co-workers. For some reason, many of those cards also included boxes of Chocolate Frogs. Mandy had to have had something to do with that.

Perhaps he should send the former Ravenclaw to George Weasley for remedial pranking lessons. It would be a shame to ignore such potential.

"Merlin," Severus murmured as he handed Harry a glass of wine. "What is this fixation with Chocolate Frogs?"

"Mandy Brocklehurst seems to think they are a favorite of mine, so she probably put the others up to it...and it might have been true when I was twelve, but my palate moved on from milk chocolate years ago." Harry shrugged as he opened another missive. "Boot wants me to give him Agrippa if I find the card."

"And do you plan to do so?"

"Hell, no. Boot's an adult and too old to be collecting trading cards. If I eat any of these frogs, which is doubtful, any cards I find will go to Teddy, who is an actual child." 

Harry opened the final parcel in the _Harry Potter_ stack. It was a long scarf, hand-knitted in a striped pattern. It wasn't apparent at first, but Harry realized that the eight colors representing the four Hogwarts Houses repeated down the length. It was subtle, quite attractive, and was actually something he would consider wearing.

"This looks very nice, doesn't it? It was knitted by a witch named Doris Crockford." Harry set the scarf aside. "Do we know someone named Doris Crockford?"

"That name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't place her," Severus replied. "Dinner is ready." 

"Everything smells delicious. Just let me wash my hands first."

~*~*~  
Harry had finally reached the end of all the birthday letters and had opened nearly all of the packages sent by witches and wizards he didn't even know. He shook his head at all the Gryffindor related paraphernalia. There were red and gold striped shirts, hats, scarves and gloves. There were mugs, key chains, costume jewelry, and other oddments, bearing either the Hogwarts coat of arms or the Gryffindor coat of arms. 

"What am I supposed to do with this shite?" Harry threw his hands up in exasperation; total strangers had spent their hard earned money to send him things he didn't want or need. "The only time I wear red and gold in public would be if I attend a Quidditch match at Hogwarts, and now that I'm a School Governor, I can't wear it so I don't show favoritism."

"Maybe Teddy would like some of it. He'll start Hogwarts in a year."

"What makes you think he'll even be a lion? My money is on Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuff? Why do you think that?" Severus asked, incredulously. "You raised him, he's a Black, and he's the wolf's spawn. That makes him a shoo-in for Gryffindor."

"Correction. He was raised by two Slytherins AND a Gryffindor." Harry had always shared custody of Teddy with Andromeda. "And my money is still on Hufflepuff."

"Why?"

"Because Teddy is his mother's son." 

And Severus couldn't argue with that.

"I'll probably take the t-shirt with the Hogwarts coat of arms and the socks with the snitches. You and Teddy can take what you want, if anything, and I'll let the Weasley Clan rummage through the rest. No one bleeds red and gold quite like them." 

That settled, Harry moved all the school-themed gifts into a conjured box and turned his attention back to the remaining packages. Thank Merlin there were only a handful left to open.

"Do you think it would help if I secretly changed my last name? I just can't go through this again next year." 

"Perhaps. What were you thinking of changing it to?"

"Povansnack(3)."

"Poven-what?"

"Povansnack. Think about it. No one would ever make the connection."

Severus pondered over the name for several moments before he gave an inelegant snort. "You're an idiot."

"Perhaps. But I'm your idiot." Harry settled beside his partner. The rest of the _Sender Unknown_ parcels could wait. It was late and all he wanted was a birthday cuddle.

~*~*~  
"Severus," Harry called from across the room, a cherry pie in his hands.

"Yes?"

"Who the hell is Doris Crockford?"

**Author's Note:**

> (1) CPS-DAM: Child Protective Services - Department of Accidental Magic
> 
> (2) Doris Crockford was one of the witches that shook Harry's hand in The Leaky Cauldron on the day Hagrid took him to Diagon Alley for school supplies.
> 
> (3) Povansnack: POtter eVANs SNape blACK
> 
> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3811690.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1747016.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1059841.html).


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